


There's a little thing I call the Frankenstein Arc

by Eric_The_BMO



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Based off after Quackity ate Schlatt's heart, Canonical Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Corpses, Dream Smp, Ghostbur, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memory Loss, Mild Gore, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Quackity goes full mad scientist, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, The fourth wall is broken a bit, and chill i dont ship them, if you read this as a ship i will end u like phil ended wilbur, philza is mentioned by the way, rated mature just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27747976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eric_The_BMO/pseuds/Eric_The_BMO
Summary: The funeral never sat right with Alex.So here he was, preparing to resurrect the man he hated.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	There's a little thing I call the Frankenstein Arc

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if I wrote the characters correctly, I dont really watch Quackity that much. I also don't have motivation to make this a series, sorry. Have a nice day yall!!

It was a secret room, hidden only where he could find it. Chests lay scattered, a brewing table off to the side with an assortment of ingredients. The room was dimly lit, save for area in the center of the room where lanterns were hanging above a table made of slabs.

And on that slab was a body, stitched back together after being ripped apart. It had taken a while to find all the missing parts.

The funeral never sat right with Alex, even while he celebrated the man's death. Schlatt should be alive.

He had to at least do something.

The former vice president had waited until the funeral was over, until the body was buried and everyone left, until absolutely no one was around to see him. Only then did he grab a pickaxe and break through the tomb where the corpse had resided.

Alex approached the body lying on the slab, its chest cut open to reveal where its heart would have been. The heart wasn't there, of course– it had been eaten during the man's funeral. In hindsight, Alex thought, maybe it wasn't a good idea to eat the heart of the man you plan to resurrect.

But no worries– Alex's own heart would probably work, too. Respawns can be odd, occasionally leaving disembodied limbs and such even after the owner of said body parts had already respawned. And Alex had wondered if this trick would work on hearts.

He found out that yes, it did, but only after he ripped his heart of out of his torn-open chest multiple times. So here he was, his own heart in his hands, preparing to resurrect the man he simultaneously loved and hated.

* * *

Alex stepped back, admiring his mediocre sewing skills. His fingers had been pricked a few times by the needle, and hopefully he put the heart in the right place, but hey, at least he did it. Now all that was left was to bring him back.

....But how the fuck does he do that, exactly?

He's thought about it, come up with various ways: golden apples and potions, a totem of undying, maybe a blood sacrifice? He really wasn't sure.

* * *

The idea came to him while he was talking to the ghost of Wilbur, of all times.

"So, okay I'm just a bit confused here, with you being a ghost and all." The two of them were in the ghost's home in the sewers, which was actually quite nicer than it sounded.

The grayscale spirit of Wilbur glanced over at Alex. _"What's there to be confused about?"_ He said, his hand phasing through a potion bottle as he tried to pick it up. _"I died, that's why I'm a ghost."_

"But you- you've died so many times before!" Alex sat up on the chair he was sitting in, looking through the library's doorway. "And when you fucking respawned you remembered everything and weren't, like, a ghost!"

_"...Oh, then Alive Wilbur must've used up his three lives or something, I guess."_ The ghost said this so nonchalantly as he finally picked up the potion, floating over to his guest.

Alex blinked. "His three what?" A confused laugh escaped from him. "We have more lives than that, dude."

Ghostbur presented the potion to the man, seemingly ignoring his response. _"Here,"_ he said with a smile, _"I made this for you."_

"Okay, cool, weakness potion, thanks– what do you mean by the three lives?"

Ghostbur tilted his head, brow furrowed as he watched Alex pocket the potion. _"The what?"_

"Oh my fucking god– the three lives thing? You said Alive You used them all up."

Ghostbur stood there, confused for a moment with brows furrowed. Finally there was a flicker of recognition in the spirit's eyes, and he smiled once again. _"Oh, yeah! What about it?"_

"How the hell do we have three lives?"

_"Well, from what I remember, we have three lives of course, and, uh– whenever we die in a very important way, we lose a life! Like when Phil killed me, that was my last life."_ And of course, he says this as cheery as ever, or as cheery as possible with his eternally sorrowful voice.

Alex froze, the gears turning in his head as an idea began to form. "Wil..." he began hesitantly, "Is it possible to transfer one of your lives to someone else?"

The ghost shrugged. _"Maybe? I'm not really sure to be exact, I–"_

Alex knocked over the chair, putting out an arm to push Ghostbur out of the way only for his hand to go right through as he raced out of the underground home.

_"Oh, you're leaving? Bye!"_

Only when he entered the secret room did Alex allow himself to release the excited laughter that was building up in his chest. Holy shit. Holy shit, maybe this would actually fucking work.

* * *

Alex stood over the body, contemplating on how he was going to do this. How does one exchange a life anyway? Wait, should he even do this? Was this a bad idea?

No, he going to do it, god dammit. There's no room for doubt now. He's going to bring him back.

Alright, here it goes.

It turns out that Alex managed to get it right on the first try. It also turns out that exchanging one of your three lives is extremely painful.

He stumbled to the floor, one bloodied hand on the slab table as voices swirled around his head, a cacophonous noise of shouting.

_"Sir, what were you thinking?!?"_

_"This is some Frankenstein shit oh my god"_

_"You bastard, you actually did it!!"_

_"What the FUCK?!"_

_"VILLIAN ARC VILLAIN ARC"_

God, these overlapping voices were giving him such a headache. With his remaining hand he hit the side of his head as if it would knock the voices out of his skull.

"Hey, voices, shut the fuck up! I'm busy here!" Jesus Christ, he was so light-headed. He pulled himself up off the floor as he tried to catch his breath. Slowly, the voices faded away.

Okay, think. What does he do now? Check for a pulse. Yeah. Yeah, okay. He can do that. Alex put two fingers up to the body's wrist and waited, tense.

And he waited. A cherry pit of dread started to grow inside his chest.

But there it was– a faint pulse.

Schlatt was alive.

Alex's face split open into a grin as he gave a triumphant shout that dissolved into laughter, pulling his beanie down further onto his head as he continued to smile. He stumbled back, absolutely overcome with the feeling of success.

Holy shit! He did it! Oh my god, he actually did it, this was the best day ever and absolutely no one could tell him otherwise.

Alex observed from a distance, shaking with excitement as he watched the resurrected man come to.

Fingers twitched and eyes opened, and slowly, Schlatt pushed himself up into a sitting position. He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. And then the businessman turned to Alex, who could no longer contain his excitement. He ran forward, enveloping the horned man in a hug. Schlatt tensed up– he obviously wasn't expecting a hug.

"Schlatt! Schlatt, oh my god you're fucking back! You're back!" Laughter mixed in with Alex's words, he was so overjoyed. He pulled away, still grinning. "You're back, you can– You can bring Manburg back to its former glory!!" Alex beamed at him, and the man only stared at him, goat-pupiled eyes full of confusion. Like he was looking at a stranger.

"Who the fuck are you?"

And those five words hit Alex like the blast of the L'Manberg explosion. His smile faltered, and he let out a nervous chuckle. "C'mon now, are you fucking serious?"

No response. Just a stare. The excitement had withered away, and Alex felt his heart drop. "Dude, it's– it's me, Alex." He gestured towards himself. "Your vice president? Y'know, fuckin' Flatty Patty?" He didn't break eye contact, desperately searching for a flicker of recognition within Schlatt's eyes.

Nothing.

"Yeah, okay," the man swung his legs over to the edge of the table, standing up on the stone floor. "None of what you're saying is making any fucking sense. Now why the hell am I wearing a suit? I mean, I look nice in it, but really..."

"Do you– do you remember Manberg? And the election, and you tearing down the White House? The one that I fucking built?" God dammit, Alex could feel his throat tighten with tears.

"I'm sorry, do I remember what? 'Manberg?'" The man made a face as he said the name, and he gestured to his surroundings. "No, the first thing I fucking remember is waking up here, dumbass. What else would I remember?"

...Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

_"FUCK!"_ The shout tore out of Alex's lungs as he crumpled to the floor, distraught. He did all of this, he gave up one of his lives, he stole a fucking corpse– and for what?

Schlatt didn't even remember anything.


End file.
